


Shiny and New

by Amelia_Clark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Porn, Schmoop, Season/Series 09, Top!Cas, be forewarned, bottom!Dean, episode coda, like I grossed myself out a little, this is some Nick-Sparks level shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Dean means to say is “You can’t stay.”</p><p>Not that he wants to say it. Not that, in fact, it won’t kill another piece of whatever good is left inside him to say it. But it’s Sam, and <i>take care of your brother</i> is so worn into the grooves of his brain by now, obeying isn’t even voluntary. So if Cas’s being here—alive and human and <i>here</i>—puts Sam in danger, there’s nothing to be done. He can’t stay.</p><p>But what he actually says is, “It’s not supposed to be like that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiny and New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jessi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessi/gifts).



> Born of shared Twitter rage. Seriously, 9.03 can go fuck itself none-too-gently with a chainsaw.

What Dean means to say is “You can’t stay.”

Not that he wants to say it. Not that, in fact, it won’t kill another piece of whatever good is left inside him to say it. But it’s Sam, and _take care of your brother_ is so worn into the grooves of his brain by now, obeying isn’t even voluntary. So if Cas’s being here—alive and human and _here_ —puts Sam in danger, there’s nothing to be done. He can’t stay.

But what he actually says is, “It’s not supposed to be like that.”

Because he walks in and there’s Cas, content to be mortal if it means hoodies and burritos and hot showers, as if it’s that simple. It should be that simple, shouldn’t it? Instead there’s lies and complication and betrayal.

“What’s not supposed to be like what?” says Cas around a mouthful of carne asada.

“Sex. Your first time, especially. It’s supposed to be, I don’t know, romantic.” Dean turns the chair around before he sits down, and he’s not sure why. He just needs something between them, some kind of separation.

“There were candles,” Cas says. “I understand candlelight is considered romantic.”

“Ugh, no, candles are corny as hell, Cas. Basic-cable shit. But that’s not even what I mean, really? Not like, silk sheets and rose petals and smooth jazz. Nothing really even outside of you? I mean that you should feel something real. Something true. You shouldn’t think that one thing’s happening and then it’s just a fucking lie.”

“Is that what your first time was like, Dean?” Cas shoves the rest of his food away, fixes his eyes on Dean’s with his old angelic focus. It’s a little heartbreaking, to be honest. 

Everything about Cas now is a little heartbreaking.

Dean snorts at the question. “God, no. It was—I was way too young. I mean, it was fine, it was over in five minutes, I never talked to her again. She didn’t fucking stab me.”

“No, I imagine that’s an unusual experience.”

Dean slams his hand on the table. “Goddamn it, Cas, don’t joke about it! Get pissed! She took something that coulda been beautiful and made it ugly. It shouldn’t have been like that, not for you. It should’ve been—”

“It should’ve been you,” says Cas.

“Yeah,” says Dean after a moment. “Yeah, it should’ve been me.”

Silence falls, cold and bleak as the longest night of the year.

Then Dean clears his throat. “What if—look, Cas, I hate that this happened to you, and I can’t make it not have happened.” He’s staring across the room, away from Cas, like his eyes have been glued there. “But I could still try to give you something better to remember instead. I could try to show you how it’s supposed to be.” 

It’s Cas who breaks the silence this time, but not with words—suddenly, Dean’s on his feet, yanked up by his shirtfront, and Cas’s tongue slips past his lips, tasting of cilantro and lime.

Dean kicks the chair out from in between them and presses himself up against Cas’s lean, wiry body, sliding his hands across his unshaven jaw into his hair. Opening wider, he licks into the hungry warmth of the other man’s mouth. _Man’s_ , not _angel’s_ , not anymore. He’s pretty sure that this is somehow all his fault.

Cas shoves Dean’s shirt off his shoulders, starts unbuckling his belt. “Wait, slow down,” gasps Dean, holding his own desire in check with an effort worthy of a goddamn medal. “Calm down, Cas. Let’s go to bed.”

*****

Back in Dean’s room, they fall ungracefully onto the cushy mattress, kissing desperately, like there’s no air left in the world except that contained in the other’s lungs. Dean pulls back for a second to give himself room to unbutton Cas’s shirt. “How did it even happen?” he asks. “What did she do?”

“I was wounded. My arm was cut, and she was cleaning it. She said my shoulders were tense.”

“Jesus. You need to watch more TV, Cas. That’s the most clichéd seduction known to man. I’m gonna treat you better than that.”

“Are you going to seduce me, Dean?”

“Do I have to?”

“No,” says Cas, burrowing his hands underneath Dean’s T-shirt. “I think you’ve been doing that for years already.”

“Mmmm. So we can just get to the good stuff.” 

“Yes. Continue with ‘the good stuff,’ Dean.”

So Dean wrestles their shirts off, rolls underneath Cas, letting his hands roam over the slim torso so recently streaked with blood. He has to force himself not to hurry, not to switch on one-night-stand mode and ravish him—but soon he can’t help sliding one palm down past Cas’s waist, stroking along the solid line of his cock. “I’ll bet she didn’t make you this hard, did she? Didn’t make you need it this much?”

Cas just gasps in response, pushes down into Dean’s touch. “Say it,” says Dean. “Tell me I’m better than she was.”

“You are, Dean. You’re so good, that feels so good. It feels so—different.”

Dean’s unfastening Cas’s fly and nibbling little marks along his collarbone. “Well, yeah, I’m a guy.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know it isn’t.” They leisurely roll against each other, eyes locked in wonder. 

“I think you need to be inside me,” pants Dean. “God, Cas, I’ve been wanting you to fuck me so bad for so long.”

“Yes, I know,” says Cas with a grin—a real, human grin, all teeth and teasing. “Remember, I used to be able to see your dreams.”

Dean laughs. “There’s lube in the nightstand,” he says. “I haven’t done this in a while, so don’t rush me, OK?”

“I will try. Impatience is very new to me, and I don’t like it very much.”

But Cas manages to pace himself, moving slick fingers in and out of Dean’s ass almost sedately while he pours a steady stream of endearments into the hunter’s ear, until it’s Dean who’s greedy for it, who’s begging in a voice an octave higher than usual, “Please, Cas, please. I want you, I can’t wait any longer.”

At Dean’s urging, Cas lines up his cock and drives home, stilling both their breaths with the sweet shock of their joining. Cas fucks him deep and slow, too slow to even be a rhythm, and brings one hand between them to grasp Dean’s aching erection.

Dean groans into his mouth. “Cas,” he whimpers. “Castiel. My angel, you’ll always be my angel.”

“And you’ve always been mine. You’ve kept me in the world, Dean. You’ve kept me from despair.”

“Tell me this is better. Tell me I can make you forget.”

“Forget what?” rumbles Cas, low and quiet as faraway thunder.

“Yes. Yeah, that’s right. Tell me I’m the first. Tell me I’m the only one.”

“Of course you are. The first and the only, after thousands of years.”

Dean comes so hard he blacks out, fades back to consciousness sitting up, straddling Cas’s lap as he finally speeds up. A few thrusts later, Cas’s climax floods him, hot and messy and perfect.

Their hearts pound against each other, gradually subsiding until they can speak again. “ _That_ is how it’s supposed to be,” stammers Dean.

Cas drifts into sleep soon after, and Dean watches him, fascinated. He hasn’t solved anything, not really. There’s still Sam to worry about, as always.

But if _take care of Sam_ is as automatic as breathing?

_Take care of Cas_ can be his choice. 


End file.
